Worthy
by saira rajiya
Summary: post-war love story. Hermione Granger returns to Hogwarts without her best friends and a developing eating disorder. Draco Malfoy returns because he has nowhere else to go. The two discover each other and the power to survive together.
1. Two Lonely People

Hermione sat and stared out of the train window. Trees blurred as they passed, interrupted only by the occasional town or lonely cabin nestled in the hills. How could it all be so calm, so normal, as if the tumult of her recent life had never happened? Voldemort had walked this area just recently and friends had died defending it. How could there not be blood on the ground, when their screams still echoed in her head? Echoed… - with a mental shake she shifted her attention to her hands as she practiced the breathing exercises her therapist, Susan, had taught her. _You can't think about it_ she admonished herself, _it does you no good. Be glad you are alive. Be glad the good side won and that so many you knew and loved are still alive. Take each day as it is. Don't think about it._ It was a familiar mantra and though it didn't do much good she kept repeating it, hoping that maybe someday it would have some effect.

The compartment door slid open and Hermione jerked in its direction, her muscles tensed for action. She couldn't help herself, her fight reflex had never quite left, her body didn't believe her mind that there was peace. She smiled as she slowly forced herself to relax into her seat, allowing Ginny to settle in across from her.

"Hey" Ginny greeted her quietly. Ever since the death of her brother and the suicide of Ron, Ginny had become silent. She was dealing, but it would take years.

"Hi," Hermione acknowledged.

She stared once more at her fingernails; she didn't know what to say. She couldn't ask how Ginny was; the answer was obvious, not wonderful. She couldn't ask about the last month after Ron's funeral, why would Ginny want to discuss her mourning period? But she couldn't just leave it at that. It was going to be a very awkward school year if they couldn't even talk to one another. _Just stick to the present, _Hermione reminded herself. _Just like Susan told you, think about where you are now and where you're going. Don't look back. Not alone, not yet._

"So…what classes did you sign up for?" Hermione finally asked. Class registration had been very late this year. Classes hadn't even been announced until a week ago, so Hermione hadn't been able to discuss them with her friends yet. They still didn't know where they'd be sleeping. Everything was going to be different at Hogwarts this year.

"Oh. Well, herbology, advanced potions, and defense against the dark arts. I figured three classes would be a good start." Ginny said, "You?"

"Advanced potions and defense, like you, and history of the wizarding world from medieval times until Prime Minister Pinker. Plus, advanced transfiguration and charms," Hermione answered.

"So, five classes," Ginny paused and looked down before whispering "I don't think I can take more than three. Not like you. I still need all these breaks during the day. And I can't concentrate for long periods of time, so I figure homework will take me forever."

Hermione moved across to sit beside her friend and laid an arm around Ginny. "I understand. My mind keeps drifting…bad memories," she confided. Ginny smiled sadly and shifted her eyes from the floor up to the ceiling.

"And the good," she sighed "the good hurts most of all."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. "Yeah." And so they sat there, neither one looking at the other, but both desiring the support the other's presence offered.

After a time, the lull of the tracks put Ginny to sleep against Hermione's shoulder. Staring absently at the red hair curling under Ginny's chin and escaping from the ponytail, she sighed heavily. How she wished she were beautiful like Ginny Weasley. Ginny was this tall, thin thing with crazy hair and piercing eyes that attracted all guys within the area. And she had found Harry, by whom she was completely adored. Hermione meanwhile was short, with thighs, a stomach and frizzy hair; someone who could be defined as 'cute' but nothing more. And she definitely didn't have anyone who loved her. She pinched her belly to assess how much fat lay within, only to quickly release it as once more the door slid open.

Blonde hair.

Hermione reflexively shifted to place herself more completely between her sleeping friend and the door as Draco Malfoy entered. She knew he was supposedly safe. Malfoy had been forgiven by the returning Dumbledore himself and had even become a spy for their side after his attempted murder of the headmaster had filled him with too much guilt and self-disgust. And yet, when she saw him, all she could think about were dark places full of pain, fear, and screams. Of the house with his aunt where her own torture had been the worst and the murky rooms in which she had to hide while hunting for horcruxes and deatheaters.

Malfoy had frozen just within the room as the door slid shut with a small clack. An uncertain look had entered his eye but as he shifted a hard glint replaced it.

"Right" he muttered quietly. "Well, this is definitely not the place for me." He glanced towards the sleeping Ginny next to Hermione. "How's the Weasley?"

"Why?" Hermione asked him with suspicion. The minute she sensed any need for self defense she immediately set up protective barriers and became meaner and blunter. And besides, what did Malfoy want with Ginny?

Malfoy sighed before locking eyes with Hermione, as if willing her to believe him. "Look Granger, I know it's not easy to believe but I'm not the same guy. I get that you can't forgive me, but at least believe Dumbledore and stop acting like I'm about to kill you all. I just really want to know, I heard about all her losses."

"It's not like others haven't lost loved ones as well. You ever ask them?" Hermione snapped. The look of hurt that briefly flickered across Malfoy's face made her regret her temper instantly. "Look, I'm sorry." She quickly corrected herself, "I get it, but you also have to understand that I'm never going to trust you. Ever. But I guess you're asking isn't bad in itself…Ginny's fine. Or she will be eventually; she's in a lot of pain over Fred dying and Ron's suicide." She glanced over, but miraculously Ginny slept on. How she could do that Hermione didn't know. Even before…everything…, Hermione had been a light sleeper, but now, sleep came in bursts and nightmares plagued her.

"Well I'm sorry. But it's good to know she's recovering. She's lucky to have family to support her," Malfoy paused momentarily before shifting towards the door. "I'll be going then. Granger," he nodded in dismissal.

As he slid the door open Hermione could hear Dumbledore in her head. _Now is not the time for past grudges. Now is the time for forgiveness._ Perhaps Dumbledore was right. And it was her place to be a role model to the rest of the students, seeing as she was the only one of the trio returning to school. "Wait," she held out her hand as she called softly to him. But once he had turned she couldn't ask.

"Yes?" Malfoy asked coolly, raising one nonchalant eyebrow after the silence had become too long to be socially acceptable.

"Would you…that is to say…" Hermione stuttered, suddenly nervous under his sardonic stare, "…do you need…well…do you have anywhere else to sit on the train? Or are you all alone?"

Malfoy looked momentarily surprised but masked the emotion quickly. "Yeah," he remarked sarcastically, "'cause I have so many friends, what with my being a traitor to some, and a murderer to others."

Hearing the self contempt in his voice Hermione knew she had made the right decision. "Stay," she told him.


	2. Hiding the Brokeness

Malfoy was lounging across from her and pointedly staring at the ceiling. Hermione knew it was rude, but she couldn't help herself, she studied him. He had grown up nicely; even she had to admit to that; all muscle and tousled hair. Judging from the dark circles under his eyes, he couldn't have been sleeping much better than she was.

_Is he having nightmares as well?_ _Does he dream of the people he killed?_ Hermione asked herself. _Cause I do. Does he hear screams? Does he wonder if it was worth coming out of it alive? Is the loss as unbearable for him?_ She wanted to ask him, but she couldn't because of what he still represented. He signified both the bad, or at least his family did, and the forgiveness that she herself should be exercising. Dumbledore forgave Malfoy; the rest of the wizarding world should too.

_God_ Hermione laughed, _when Ron hears me contemplating forgiving the ferret!_

She stopped. Ron was dead. She'd forgotten again for a second. Ron was dead and Harry was hiding away from his fame, trying to outrun the fans and the crazy journalists. She was alone, no one to laugh with, no one to mourn with. She had friends, but her best friends weren't there, and that left her alone. Running her hands through her hair she found Malfoy's icy stare on her face. "What?" she demanded.

"You looked so dejected all of a sudden," he said quietly "that was a new expression for me."

She shrugged her shoulders, trying to look as nonchalant as he did, but in so doing she threw Ginny's head off her shoulder. Ginny sat up slowly and opened her eyes only to straighten violently and swear loudly, wand instantly in hand. "Malfoy!" she practically shouted.

Malfoy jumped up and pulled his own wand, pointing it in their direction. He said nothing, did nothing more, just waited, eyes weary.

"Ginny" Hermione began, reaching out for her friends shoulder only to find her friend had moved.

"I swear to God Malfoy!" Ginny was on her feet, and growing rapidly more agitated. "What the hell are you doing here you bastard?! Get out before I hurt you!"

"Ginny!" Hermione shouted, moving to place herself between the two. "Ginny will you just shut up and listen for a sec?" Ginny didn't move, but she stopped shouting, opting instead to glare suspiciously in Hermione's direction. Hermione could feel Malfoy shift slightly y next to her. "Ginny. Just calm down, Malfoy's here because I told him he could be."

"Well, actually you more like asked. If I recall correctly," Draco smirked. Hermione turned fully in his direction and rolled her eyes before glaring. "Really, ferret? Now is not the time. Just shut up and lower your wand." Surprisingly, he did as she said. Turning back to Ginny she found her friend standing with a strange expression, wand no longer raised.

"Did you say, you asked him to stay?" she questioned, disbelieving. "You asked the ferret? The Man responsible for Fred…for Fred…?

"Ginny" Hermione reached out. "Ginny, you know he didn't do that to Fred. You know it's not his fault. Remember what Dumbledore said."

"Yeah, but he's still a ferret!" Ginny replied petulantly, tears beginning to form as she sank backwards into the seat cushions. Hermione looked imploringly at Malfoy, not certain to ask him to stay or go.

"Don't worry" Malfoy told her "I can tell when I'm not wanted"

"Malfoy…" Hermione began.

"No, no. Really, I get it, it's not the time." He smiled at her sadly before straightening and shooting her his trademark, cocky grin. "Besides, I've got better things to do with my time." And with that he slid the door open and was gone.

Hermione staredat the empty space he left behind before turning back to her distraught friend. "Ginny," she whispered quietly. "Ginny" and she reached once more to envelope her friends in her arms.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione" Ginny sobbed as she clung to Hermione ,"I know you're hurting too. I just find it tough dealing with the reminders. Usually I'm okay, but seeing Malfoy…" She sniffed and straightened. "But really, I never truly asked. How are you holding up? How could you ask that monster to stay? Doesn't Malfoy bring up…memories?"

"It's fine Ginny" Hermione reassured her friend "You don't need to worry about me." Resting her cheek on top of Ginny's head she sighed. She was lying, she was as broken as Ginny, but she wasn't going to let that show. It wouldn't do anyone any good, and besides, Ginny and the others still needed her; she just needed to be tough.


	3. Nowhere To Go

Hermione tried not to cry. She had prepared herself for this, she had told herself that it would be different, that Hogwarts wouldn't be the same. But she hadn't expected the rubble, hadn't expected that the dark magic still clinging to the foundations had made it nearly impossible to repair parts of the castle, including the old dormitory wings. _Things really aren't the same_ she realized as she looked around, _everything's smaller. Fewer people I guess._ She sighed. Why did things have to change?It just reminded her of how much she had been altered as well. Hermione wasn't happy anymore, she wasn't secure; in fact she hated her ugly self. _That's the worst_ she whispered in frustration _why can't I just be happy?_ Turning her eyes upward towards the enchanted ceiling she refused to break down. It wouldn't do any good; she'd learned that during the war, hysterics achieved nothing.

An arm wrapped itself around her waist, reminding her of the realities below. Turning slightly she half smiled at Ginny. "It's different, huh?" she asked her.

"Yeah," Ginny nodded, "All the tables are together; no more school houses…I get the whole wanting unity thing, but it still feels bizarre." Shaking her head she scanned the room before breaking into a grin. Waving, she began to drag Hermione into the mass of people. "Come on, I see Neville and Padme," she urged.

As they moved forward it took Hermione a second to register that the noise had quieted some and that the snippets of conversation all centered on her. She faltered, when she heard a mention of Ron.

"I hear they were dating before Ron killed himself."

"I heard they'd gotten married," another added.

"Well, I heard he killed himself over her."

"At least he wasn't a coward like Harry, deserting her."

"My father says Harry refused to come back because he's mentally damaged. You know, some curse of Voldemort's"

It was nonsense, but it hurt all the same and reminded her of what she was missing. Besides, none of the whispers were ever really about her. They were about what she represented. The people she symbolized. She ground her teeth in protest, _they don't see me they just see Harry or Ron or any other member of the Order of the Phoenix. I'm pretty much invisible._

"Ignore them." Ginny spoke softly from beside her. "They don't know what they're talking about. They just need gossip. They're vultures," she grimaced in disdain but her eyes sparkled with tears as well.

"I know," Hermione quickly pasted a halfhearted grin onto her face, "and besides, who needs them when we have such good friends." But her smile slid easily from her face once Ginny wasn't looking anymore. _What is wrong with me? _She questioned, _I shouldn't be this upset. Even Ginny's doing better than I am, and she's lost more._ But Hermione couldn't shake the sadness, couldn't rid herself of the feeling that she wasn't worthy of the attention, wasn't even important enough to be worthy of the sorrow she was feeling. What had she ever truly suffered, compared to the others, that she should be allowed to wallow in misery?

"Hey!!" Padme squealed as they reached her. "How are you?? Have you seen this place? Do you know where we'll be sleeping? Neville says he heard Thomas say that…" Hermione stopped listening. It had been a long day, full of reminders and ghosts of the past. She was exhausted and just wanted to curl up, and ignore the world for a brief while. Looking around furtively she found that the door was fairly close and she couldn't resist. Muttering something about bathrooms to Ginny, she fled towards the exit.

Once beyond the cavernous hall, she inhaled deeply, and found she didn't know where she was going. She desired a bed but had no idea of how to reach the new dormitories.

For lack of any better ideas she went looking for the library. The smell of books and dark corners had always been comforting; all those ideas to discover, all the different worlds waiting to be explored.

Deliberately placing one foot in front of the other, she focused on her fingers running themselves across the stone wall. She didn't want to think, she just wanted to walk, to breathe, to live in the moment. _What more is there anyway?_ She wondered. The past was too full of lost opportunities and adventures that resembled nightmares. And the future was too unknown, Hermione couldn't stand not knowing what was coming, it meant she couldn't plan. She liked planning, lists made her feel in control. Lately her life had been anything but under her control.

As she wandered aimlessly, the stone walls became more pockmarked and blackened from spells until she realized that her feet had led her far away from the library. She didn't know where to go, she wasn't even quite sure where she was; too much had been destroyed. She guessed it was close to the Gryffindor commons. Sinking to the ground she leaned back against the cool stones.

A shadow fell across her face just as she began to relax. "Well now, what do we have here?" a familiar voice sneered from above.

"Malfoy," she muttered without moving.

"Can I join you?" he asked. Hermione opened her eyes in surprise. Draco Malfoy was standing, hands stuffed in his pockets. The light from behind him hit his hair, creating a halo effect. _He looks almost angelic_, Hermione mused.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said as he slid down to sit beside her.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. What did he want? Had he come to taunt her?

Malfoy didn't do anything besides look at her.

"Can I help you?" Hermione shifted her gaze self consciously to the wall across from her, suddenly fascinated with its masonry. His silence was making her nervous. When was the brat going to start insulting her? She knew he wasn't a deatheater but she also doubted he could have changed that much. Would he attack her looks once more? Would it be her teeth and hair like always or was there acne that he could focus his abuse on now? Did she remember to cover up that zit on her forehead? Was her stomach hanging out?

Hastily she crossed her arms to cover her midsection.

"No. I was just wandering around when I found you here." He paused. "And, well…" he cleared his throat "and I figured I should probably thank you for letting me share the train compartment."

Hermione turned her head stunned. "You're thanking me?" She asked incredulously. He looked almost hurt at her doubt, making her realize just how harsh and prejudiced she had sounded. Chagrined she hastily began to apologize. "Look, I'm sorry, that came out wrong. I didn't mean to imply you can't be…I mean…I didn't mean…" she dithered, "what I wanted to say was…" she took a deep breath "you're welcome."

Draco was smirking again by the time she had finished. Rolling her eyes she leaned back once more. "Never mind Malfoy, just forget it, you're not welcome. Now go away."

But Malfoy didn't move. His eyes were just as icy as ever, and his smirk was equally as pronounced, but there was something else there; an understanding that frightened Hermione as much as it intrigued her. "I have nowhere else to go," he finally admitted.

Hermione gave up. "Fine, then." Smiling Draco shifted and crossed his ankles; stretching out more fully.


	4. Changed My Mind

The quiet was soothing, and Hermione relaxed despite herself. Wrapping her arms more securely around her legs she stared at the floor. The charcoal slate ran the length of the hallway and she followed it to the corners where the floor blackened. Steadily dragging her gaze back, she found herself studying her shoes.

They were red and the best that could be said about them was that they were utilitarian. There was a smudge on one of the toes which fascinated her. Where had the stain come from? Where along the way had the top of her toe come in contact with something dirty? It bothered her somehow that even after the constant vigilance of war, she still wasn't aware of where every part of her body was at all times. It felt like failing, which she knew was ridiculous, but still a voice hissed _failure_ in her ear.

Irritated with herself she moodily flicked a pebble away only to have it come to a tumbling halt beside Malfoy's thigh. His hand reached down to grab it as she slid her gaze up along the strong arm and square chest, to face his cool gaze. Hermione wasn't certain why, but she was suddenly nervous.

Malfoy smirked and raised an eyebrow but said nothing more.

"What?" Hermione demanded to know, instantly defensive once more.

"Nothing" he replied, eyeing her up and down in a way that made her shiver with anticipation.

_He just oozes sexuality_ she thought _It's too bad he's such an ass. _Shaking her head she turned her gaze back to the floor and began to play with the hem of her pants. She had shortened them herself and they had turned out uneven. Tugging futilely she tried to focus on anything besides the young man next to her.

"You know, you can talk to me. I won't bite your head off," Malfoy broke her concentration.

She considered it. I_f he's going to be civil then so can I. No use being shown up by a Slytherin, _she thought. _Well, not a Slytherin anymore, _she quickly corrected herself, "What do you want to talk about?"

Malfoy leaned back and thought about it before answering, "I don't know…how about we talk about you? Don't girls love to talk about themselves?" Malfo grinned at her. She just rolled her eyes in response. "But really," he continued "why are you here, in some hallway in the shut down part of the castle?"

Hermione stilled. It was a legitimate question, but how much did she want to reveal? She glanced at him sideways before fiddling with the bottom of her slacks once more. "I don't know. I just kind of ended up here."

"Why did you leave opening ceremonies?" Hermione looked at him in surprise. He'd noticed that? She hadn't even seen him among the students.

She tried to look casual as she answered, "I had to go to the bathroom and decided to go wandering after."

"You had to go to the bathroom and you ended up here," Malfoy looked skeptical.

"Yup…Why did you leave?" She attempted to divert his attention.

"Well, the atmosphere wasn't to my liking." He said grimly. She cocked her head, slightly confused. "Being a former Slytherin and son to a powerful death eater hasn't really made me a favorite. The whispering drives me crazy," he explained.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, not realizing what she had revealed with that until she noticed Malfoy studying her with renewed interest. Sighing, she admitted "the whispers are getting to me too."

"Surely, they can't be saying anything hurtful, not about the golden trio," Malfoy couldn't help but sneer. It made her angry. _How dare he assume I don't understand the pain inflicted by rumors!_ She balled her hands into fists, suddenly all her frustration was beginning to bubble.

"Yeah, the beloved golden trio, one of whom is dead and the other's in hiding. Want to know how many say that's my fault? Want to know how often they've reminded me of my losses? How often they've caused me to relive battles because they whisper the details as if it were a movie they'd seen?" She shook with pent up frustration. It definitely wasn't the right day to have the topic brought up. She knew she had just blown up for no legitimate reason but she couldn't stop. "Yeah, maybe they don't all hate me. And yeah, maybe I happened to be on the winning side since the beginning, but I have my guilt, and my scars. Don't you dare think that I haven't dealt with enough, don't you even assume that those whispers aren't just as malicious in their own way."

Hermione didn't notice Malfoy moving closer till she felt a hand on her knee, steadying her. His strong, firm grip kept her grounded, and without thinking she placed her hand on top.

She couldn't believe she had admitted to all that. _This is where your temper gets you,_ she scolded. _Now he's definitely got ammunition against you. Idiot._ Hermione was so certain that Malfoy would use her display of emotions against her that it shocked her to hear him apologize.

"I'm sorry," Malfoy began. "I wasn't thinking, I didn't know." Hermione just continued to shake, her grip on his hand tightening. "It's okay," he continued "it's going to be alright you know. They're just whispers." _It's so much more than that_ Hermione thought, but how to explain that to him was beyond her.

It was a while before Hermione's calming nerves allowed embarrassment to set in. Looking down she found her hand still in his, and quickly withdrew hers, blushing profusely.

Seeing that she was under control, Malfoy began to explain. "To be honest, most times I can ignore it. But it gets hard at school…" he paused before continuing "It just reminds me of my mistakes. And I can't outrun the hatred." Peeking up at him Hermione saw vulnerability, and understood the sacrifice he was making. He was opening up just as she had; he was offering her peace of a kind.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked curiously, "why are you being kind?"

He looked hurt but his voice was merely solemn "Because you're the only one who fully gets it," he shrugged, "and because I need your forgiveness."

"My forgiveness?"

"If you forgive me, I can ignore the rest. Only you were really there, only you saw what I did first hand."

"And Harry and Ron?" she asked "what about their forgiveness?"

"If they were here I would be asking them tool. But Harry's not, and Ron…" he trailed off, eyeing her carefully. She swallowed hard against the feelings of loss.

"Well thank you," she said.

"For what?" Malfoy looked bewildered.

"For being kind, for trying to be a better person," grinning up at him shakily, she added, "you're still a git though." He laughed, and she couldn't help but be delighted.

"Yes, well," he rose, brushing himself off "This git thinks it's enough for one day. It's time for Hermione Granger to rejoin the masses." Shaking her head she motioned him onwards, and after a pause he turned away.

_He looks a little forlorn_, she thought, as he wound his way around the rubble. A lone figure among the ruins of a forgotten age, where peace still existed without pain and Hogwarts was whole. She couldn't let that figure remain alone. Calling out "Wait Draco, I've changed my mind," she saw him pause. Hoisting herself up, she willingly walked to meet the erstwhile enemy.


	5. Getting Better?

_Before I begin I must make my apologies on taking so long to update. My eating disorder "returned" (technically I'm like an alcoholic, I will always be anorexic so it didn't "return" as much as it intensified) and I had to get that under control and it's still making life a little harder. Needless to say, I got behind on the story. But I'm back and updating and all I can say is I'm SO sorry!!_

* * *

Up hours before her alarm was set to ring, Hermione found herself sitting on the windowsill of her dormitory aimlessly staring at the landscape beyond. The sun had finally fully emerged from the expanse of forest below to shed warmth across her face and feet.

It was hunger that had awoken Hermione; she had forgotten to eat dinner the night before. Feeling her stomach rumble at four in the morning she had slipped out of bed and headed towards the door, planning to quietly raid the kitchen for an early breakfast. But she had passed a mirror along the way and her reflection startled her. Studying herself, she found she was not as fragile looking as she felt inside. Emotionally Hermione was broken, shattered into fragments, holding it all together by the merest of threads. So why did her protruding stomach and her thick thighs look so solid? She felt ethereal, but her body said otherwise. Perhaps she could stand to lose a few pounds, perhaps then she would look like she felt. Reluctantly Hermione had turned back, arm firmly pressed against belly, and retreated to the window to sit and ignore her body's demands.

Her mind kept slipping backwards to her walk with Draco in the darkening corridors. He had led her to their new dormitories, explaining along the way what she had missed of Dumbledore's announcements. All students were now housed in the old apothecary wing, girls on one floor with the boys below. Hermione didn't know where Madame Pomfrey now resided and she didn't care, she wasn't planning on anymore injuries. The scars running across her left arm and between her shoulder blades were more than she had intended to have to begin with.

Secretly Hermione had to confess that it had been nice talking to Draco. She was curiously delighted to discover that they shared advanced potions and advanced defense classes. Draco had been surprisingly easy to converse with, and Hermione was glad to have a male perspective on life once more. Without Harry and Ron her day was filled with female acquaintance.

Shaking her head Hermione forced her attention away from Draco and their confusing new relationship, concentrating instead on the smoke leaving Hagrid's chimney and the spiraling flight of the morning birds.

She hadn't even noticed her eyelids drifting shut until they were forced open once more by the shrill of Padme's alarm. Sighing, she straightened stiff limbs as other alarms sounded, and hurried to scoop up clothes and slip out the door before the first grumbles emerged from beneath knotted hair and down comforters.

All too soon Hermione found herself wandering down the hallways once more, this time with a book bag slung over her right shoulder. The left was still too sore from some wayward curse cast by a last surrendering death eater; she had been told it might take months for the throbbing to disappear.

Feeling miserable Hermione angrily bounced a clenched fist against the stone walls as she wound her way towards the security of the library books and the relief she could find there. Her knuckles began to sting and redden but she enjoyed the raw feeling. Physical pain was something familiar; she had long ago learned not to cry at bruises and had even begun to be able to writhe in silence beneath a cruciatus. Talents she was proud of in a twisted sense. Glancing around ruefully she wondered what her eleven year old self would think of who she had become. None of her dreams had ended here, in some deserted corridor full of anger and growing self-loathing.

Hermione sighed with relief as she rounded a corner to meet the mahogany doors of the Hogwarts library. She slipped inside, careful not to let the doors slam behind her as she eagerly headed towards the history section, letting the smell of old paper and dark corners chase away her darkening thoughts. Trailing her fingers along the bindings she barely even read the titles, carelessly noting the absence of a few and the blackened edges of many others; proof that not even her most sacred of sanctuaries had survived unscathed. She wasn't looking for anything particular, and simply slid gratefully to the floor to press her back against the shelves.

Dust billowed out across the patches of sun between books and shadows seemed to meld along the edges of her vision beckoning her imagination to roam. Feeling a body seat itself beside her Hermione instinctively sprang backwards, limbs ready for battle, only to find her hands being grasped being firmly pulled back towards the carpet. Gray eyes smiled at her and she involuntarily grinned back. "Do you not make noise?" she scolded by way of greeting "You're going to give me a heart attack in the near future, I can just tell."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you" Draco began with a cocky smirk."How are you today?"

Hermione settled more comfortably against the bookcase before answering. "Okay. Could be better, could be worse."

Draco chuckled. "Wow that was non committal."

Hermione's mouth twitched "what can I say; I'm not decisive on the best of days." Pausing, she dared herself to look at him. _His face is really perfect_ she mused, _even if he is semi evil_. "What about you?"

His shoulders shrugged and he seemed to grow colder. "I'm doing. Can't expect more can you?"

Hermione studied him for a second, not knowing how to respond to the self deprecation in his voice and his emotional distancing. "What's wrong?" she finally asked.

Draco seemed to contemplate his next answer before sighing deeply. Staring at his hands he began to speak, so quietly Hermione was forced to lean in to hear him. "I'm alone. Not that anyone was my true friend before, but they did talk to me. Now…my thoughts are so loud. I want people; I even miss those I used to loathe." Draco shifted to look imploringly at the ceiling. "But not a single soul will talk to me. Or go near me even. Besides you," he smiled briefly, "It's like I live in a bubble. I did know this would happen when I switched sides, but it's still hard." His voice cracked and Draco quickly became silent.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She traced his clenched jaw with her eyes and her hand itched to feel the stubble prominent against the pale skin. She was amazed and honored to be privy to his thoughts and personal pain, but how to alleviate it?

Leaning his head backwards against ancient tomes, Draco glanced at her, face in stark relief and eyes haunted, "is it going to get better?"

She had no answer to that either. Her own pain was still too real and throbbing for a cheerful reply besides which she herself couldn't see an end in sight. Choosing silence instead of lies Hermione reached out for Draco's hand and gave it a squeeze. Skin rough and worn from war, Draco returned the gesture and closed his eyes. Checking her watch to make sure they weren't in danger of skipping class, Hermione opted to do the same.


	6. Lost and Silently Screaming

_Ok. Because I'm trying to remember the beginning of my eating disorder, and I'm juggling a full time job with studies as well, this has become difficult to write. I will keep updating but each chapter will take a while. It's slightly too personal and I'm picky about style. Hope it's worth the wait._

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Snape had been particularly nasty that day, marking Hermione late even as she slid into her seat at the sound of the bell. Draco had been running with her down empty corridors to class and had arrived just as she did, but no points were docked on his account. Being ignored by all seemed to have its advantages.

Sinking lower into her seat Hermione wished that she too could disappear. Folding her arms across her chest she hoped no one was looking. She wasn't good enough for all the attention she'd been getting. The whispers and looks made her self-conscious and she regretted having ignored Ginny's advice last year about applying makeup.

The day had steadily gotten worse from there until Hermione found herself sprinting towards the fields praying there wasn't quidditch practice. She just needed to run until she couldn't breathe. Perhaps then the pain that thinking and living brought with it would be swept aside.

Dropping her bag on the grass beside the bleachers without pausing in her mad dash, Hermione glanced upward and encountered only clouds and the darkening sky. Closing her eyes briefly against the sudden desire to float away into the blue, she began to pound around the track, hoping she had remembered to pack water. By now her thighs stung with the impact of each step and her calves tensed painfully with each push forward. Her breath sounded rough and her throat was raw from gulping in air. She felt so alone in the world and incredibly misunderstood besides which her new friendship with Draco was gnawing at her conscience. She knew there would be consequences but she didn't know what those would be and that frightened her. Hermione liked to plan, to know days in advance what was coming, it was what had made her so good at strategic warfare but it left her afraid of the new and unexpected. Outrunning her thoughts seemed the only option and so she continued until her lungs were unable to draw in air and her legs collapsed like so much rubber beneath her.

Why did it have to be her childhood that never got a chance to exist? Why was it her adolescence that was spent struggling to survive instead of worrying about boys and acne? She had done everything perfectly; maintaining grades and friendships while managing to support Harry and the wizarding world in saving society. She was the "golden girl," so named by the faceless masses of admirers and skeptics alike. And yet she felt so miserable, like something had been stolen from her.

Staring upwards she sighed with frustration. They had robbed her of her youth as surely as Voldemort took lives and as easily as others breathed. They had meant well, they had only taken what was offered, _offered by an eleven year old who knew of no other solution _she thought bitterly. They had used her, for a noble cause, but still they had abused her trust and now they would not let her go. They disturbed her life with stares and her peace with gossip rags and false rumors. Hermione had not chosen fame yet she was trapped in its coils as she silently screamed.

Swatting at yet another mosquito she watched time cross the horizon and settle behind trees with a final burst of light. When she began to shiver slightly from the evening chill and fog began to extend beyond the hills, Hermione dragged her heavy limbs towards the gates of Hogwarts, illuminated now by the light of candles and magical bulbs. Fireflies glowed green, scattering before her feet and the first of the crickets began to make their presence known among the shrubs. Running hands through tangled, sweaty hair, she reached for the double doors of the western gate and braced for the sudden increase of sound and humanity.

She paused just within, one foot still planted outside in the night air. Students hurried towards the dining hall as the bell sounded the dinner hour. A Frisbee launched itself into space, spinning awkwardly over the heads of the bustling crowd before being absorbed back into the masses, a cheer acknowledged its return to the original owner.

Tentatively, Hermione edged her way until she was swept along into the dining hall itself. Chandeliers hung in midair, their shivering light softening hard edges and reflecting off mirrors. Scanning the room Hermione tried to find familiar faces of people who allowed her a modicum of the ordinary, who didn't want to always hear a retelling of her last 8 years. A burst of red hair to her left and laughter led her to Ginny and the usual crowd of Neville, Padme, and Cho.

"That's my wand you idiot" shouted a hurtling body as it launched itself after a second figure and skidded past Hermione, causing her to jump back a step and knock into the body behind her. Mumbling a hasty apology she righted herself and carefully stepped around a crowd of first years. Weary now of the raucous room, she seated herself next to Cho and shot a crooked grin at Ginny while reaching across for a plate of potatoes.

"I'm not kidding you, Snape literally looked like he was about to explode" Ginny was laughing as Neville hid a guilty grin behind a forkful of peas. Lifting a spoonful of potatoes Hermione paused. Carbs. Weren't carbs supposed to be unhealthy? What had she read in that health magazine?

"And then…" Ginny snorted "and then, the thing literally spewed purple foam!" Neville began to protest, insisting that his partner was to blame for that particular side effect.

Hermione continued to stare at the spoon before her. Carbs. Carbs were bad, she was certain of it. Placing them carefully back into their original bowl, she pushed aside the potatoes and searched for some vegetables. She knew those were healthy. Spotting some grilled zucchini she pulled the platter towards her and piled a few on her plate.

"Well I think history of the ancient Druids is interesting. You can learn a lot from the original sorcerers." Cho defended as Hermione cut her zucchini into pieces and speared a section with her fork.

"For example, their ancient ritual of Sorces -"

Hermione chewed. She was sure it should taste good but to her vegetables just reminded her of the darkest days of the horcrux searches when their only sustenance came from what was dug up from abandoned gardens left fallow as families ran from the increasing threat of Voldemort's minions. Swallowing hard she reached for another piece but couldn't put it in her mouth. Tapping the rim of her plate absently mindedly she stared somewhere past Neville's ear until Ginny's voice and a tug on her sleeve jerked her back towards reality.

"Hermy, are you even paying attention?" Ginny teased as she tugged one more time before standing.

"Obviously not," Hermione muttered, surprised to find the room almost empty. "Where did everyone go?"

Ginny shrugged. "Their rooms, homework….dinner's over you know." Time apparently disappeared rapidly when she lost herself to her inner misery. Hermione sighed and rose, following her friend as they joined the last of the students tumbling into the outer hallways.


	7. Needing Distance

Rain pelted the windows in the common room as Hermione inched closer to the fire, surprised at the sudden change in weather. Summer, it seemed, was departing with its usual abruptness.

Following the rivulets as they carved paths down the glass to collect on the sill, Hermione sighed and wished her tears would do the same. Lately all she wanted was to cry but her cheeks remained dry and her emotions ever more desperate for release.

A cheer rose from the quidditch fields in the first game of the season, in the first match since the war. It marked the fifth time she had been wrenched from her potions paper as visions of Harry blurred the pages, reminding her of who wasn't out in the miserable weather searching for a snitch. And as another roar reached her ears she scratched the sixth tally onto the school book's cover. It simply wasn't fair how life got in the way of forgetting.

Shifting uncomfortably, Hermione massaged her right elbow, a memento from battle with Gregor Avonavich. It tended to throb at a hint of damp and, with the downpour outside, had reached a new level of pain. Leaning more to the left she stretched slowly and raised the offending limb upwards. Fat was what she saw against the backdrop of her lamp's feeble light, fat and cellulite made prominent by the increase of shadows as more clouds advanced across the dim sky.

Turning, she sought refuge in words, lifting the heavy tome and flipping to the discussion on the uses of zimroot. With quill between her fingers and parchment spread out before her, Hermione attempted to make sense of the assignment, but her wavering concentration was shattered once more by sound from the north-east.

Seven times. It was the seventh time she recalled Harry's familiar face, this time with his arm slung around Ron's shoulders, laughing.

Hermione couldn't listen anymore, couldn't hear others be so effortlessly happy while she cracked under a strain no one seemed to see. _I am officially going crazy_ Hermione thought bitterly as she stuffed paper and ink into a bag and reached for her book. _I can't even be around happiness. It's really just pathetic_. She hoisted the tote onto her shoulder only to drop it once more as the pain in her elbow flared to life.

Damn! She had forgotten about her wound. Cursing quietly, Hermione angrily reached once more for the objects now strewn about her feet. Gingerly she lifted them with her left hand, slinging them over her shoulder and tucking the volume under her arm. Stomping to the door she entered the stairwell and quickly slammed it shut behind her in a futile attempt to escape the noise of more points being scored.

Eight times.

Following the stairs into the deserted common area, she was met with the luminous eyes of Luna Lovegood, curled up on a couch, newspaper balanced precariously on one knee. Blue eyes and blonde, chaotic curls reminded Hermione of a disheveled angel. It never ceased to amaze her how Luna could look so innocent even after becoming renowned for her killing curses and a surprising predilection to wrestle men twice her size. And yet, Hermione had also seen Luna cry over dead birds and dance through fields with flowers haphazardly arranged upon her head. Luna had always been hard to categorize and was often avoided in order to prevent headaches.

"Hermione" Luna shifted, placing her feet back on the carpet and shaking her head. "You're not at the game?"

"No, too much work," Hermione lied as she slid onto a chair across from the peculiar blonde. Staring at the thin female before her, she absentmindedly brought her arms to rest across her stomach and slid back further into the cushions. "Why aren't you out there?"

Luna sighed and shook her head in disappointment. "It's not safe. Really, no one should be out there. I mean in this kind of weather it would be just too easy for wragglespurts to find a host."

"Wragglespurts?" Hermione asked, choking on a suppressed chuckle. What imaginary creature had Luna 'discovered' now?

"O yes, daddy's just published an article about them. They're tiny beings that float in with the rain. They like to nest in hair," she leaned in conspiratorially, "and then they wreck havoc. I for one would not be surprised to see people coming back with blue nails or violent outbursts of sneezing."

"Right." Hermione didn't really know what to say as she had no clue what reaction Luna was hoping to elicit. Surprise? Perhaps shock and awe? Or was she going for fear? Uncertain, Hermione settled for a nondescript lifting of the eyebrow and twitching of her mouth. She wished Ron or Harry were here to laugh with. She'd even welcome another awkward encounter with Malfoy if it meant having someone to secretly roll eyes with.

"You know, you don't look well," Luna announced, with head tipped to one side. Suddenly she gasped and leaned further towards Hermione "did the wragglespurts get to you already?? Are any of your appendages now blue??" Suspiciously she scrutinized Hermione's arms.

"No, no" Hermione rushed to assure her. "I'm just busy. Stress, you know" she trailed off and hoped it was answer enough. Luna looked at her oddly before nodding her head and returning to her curled up position and reached for her newspaper.

"Oh I know," Luna paused and then looked up at her abruptly "But I think being unhappy takes its toll as well." Hermione couldn't help but stare, was she becoming so obvious that even absentminded Luna could tell?

Denial rose easily to her lips "Unhappy? Who's unhappy?" Luna just blinked, "Really, I'm fine," Hermione rushed to assure, "Sure I miss Harry sometimes, and Ron's still … well I still grieve. But I'm happy in general. Really." Luna didn't look convinced but she didn't say anything as she reached for her newspaper and what Hermione recognized to be her father's weekly magazine.

After a brief silence with neither party saying anything Hermione stood back up and headed towards the hallway outside, stopping at the arch to assure Luna she'd see her at dinner.

Once beyond the common room, Hermione hurried towards the relative isolation of the old bell tower. Although almost certain to be cold it was also one of the most tranquil places she could think of and she wanted to be above the world, she wanted the distance and perspective it could afford.


	8. All the Confusion

She sat shivering on the stone sill, legs dangling into the dark, staring at the pelting rain. Wrapped securely in her cloak, Hermione lifted a foot to meet the downpour beyond the protection of the overhang. Once her toes began to numb, and even her sock had become thoroughly soaked, she pulled it back in, letting the chill seep into her bones. She found perverse pleasure in being uncomfortable, as if it was the universe's way of acknowledging her inner suffering.

The air smelt of grass and ammonia and something that could vaguely be called 'cold'. Hermione brushed a stray tendril behind her ear only to have it flutter across her vision once more as the next gust of wind approached. She felt tired both physically and psychologically, worn out and stretched too thin. Shifting her weight so her shoulder leaned against damp masonry, Hermione closed her eyes, too weary to ignore the memories that refused to leave.

She saw her mother, crying over a brother born too early and without life; Hermione's child-self reaching out only to be rejected. Her presence was not enough to make Helen Granger happy.

There was Malfoy, always mocking her for being too ugly, too bossy, and too muggle.

Cedric Diggory, also, had wounded when he never looked in her direction. Although he flirted with all the Gryffindor girls, and was often the source of late night giggles and tales of seduction, he had never approached Hermione Granger. She began to believe she wasn't girl enough, wasn't sweet or pliant or beautiful enough.

And as always her mind returned to the darker days of chasing Harry as he ran after Voldemort, heedlessly hurling himself at self destruction and pulling her along. In the name of "good" Hermione had followed, in the name of "right" she had suffered, and for the sake of self preservation and ingrained morals she had killed and been brought herself to death's door.

Bellatrix's face reared up, features prematurely lined from war and years of suppressed hate, but her eyes sparkled and her mouth formed a delicate, symmetrical pout. Even Hermione had recognized the woman's harsh beauty, before she had felt the pain and could see no more, could only scream. Her throat had hurt, had been dry and cracked for months after. It seemed such an inconsequential detail to remember vividly, the feeling of raw lungs and hoarse tears, and the taste of blood as she bit her lips and cheeks to keep from begging.

Forcing herself to stare out into the dark trees below, Hermione dug fingernails into palms. She just had to find a way to forget, at least momentarily. She needed her heart to stop breaking, and her body to stop aching in sympathy.

Earlier, in her mad rush to escape the dormitories, Hermione had stumbled across two fifth years in a corner. The boy's hands had been groping beneath the blonde's shirt as the girl giggled and tugged at his zipper. Neither of them had seen Hermione and she had been careful to tiptoe down the hall and out of sight. She had yet to experience it herself but she knew of the ease with which the world was discarded when faced with the sensations of naked skin and blinding lust. And now, here in this cold, silent world, she wanted nothing else, wanted the break from thinking that such a plunge into the abyss of feeling would bring. _But who would want me, _she questioned bitterly, _ugly, bruised and beaten me_.

And so she sat, head tilted against stone, legs listlessly swinging until the striking of a clock faintly marked the eleventh hour. Muffled by rain, she could still hear its soulful clang as it brought all her duties and responsibilities flooding swiftly into the forefront of her consciousness once more.

Sighing, Hermione turned inwards and made her way to the staircase. Halting at each window to stare into the dismal landscape beyond, she marched the winding stairs and wished that her every step would somehow refrain from bringing her closer to the trees below and the lonely dormitory that loomed somewhere within the confines of the castle.

Upon reaching the ground floor the dark engulfed Hermione. Her wand lit up the feet ahead of her and threw shadows upon the wall, doing nothing to ease her rising panic as she found herself alone at night in silent hallways that were far too open to attack. The closer she came to hyperventilating the quicker her eyes darted from floor to ceiling to each door she passed, evaluating the danger and potential vantage points of unnamed enemies. Hermione was at war, and her brain would never be convinced otherwise.

Footsteps, coming quick and decisively from behind her.

Hermione swung around, pointing her wand and cursing the lack of appropriate cover. The feet came closer as she gripped her wand tighter. And then Draco Malfoy rounded the corner, stopping as he encountered an armed and trembling Hermione.

With Draco's appearance she suddenly felt the cool night air on her cheeks and hear the air rush into her ragged lungs. She was fine, she was safe, she was at Hogwarts with the war tucked permanently in the past and only her foolish self was standing, prepared to fight an enemy long since defeated. _Damn, damn, damn_ Hermione cursed silently _I'm doing it again, I'm letting reality run away from me._ She lowered her arm and blushed furiously red.

"Hermione?" Draco questioned as he stepped closer, hesitantly, stretching out an arm towards her.

"God, I am such a fool" she breathed, face towards the floor, studying the tiles as they shown in the eerie light of her wand. Draco's hand brushed her shoulder and she looked up, desperately trying to keep the fear and frustration from boiling over as she encountered his concerned features. _I am a wreck_ she thought miserably, and then she began to sob.

Arms encircled her as silent tears burned paths down her cheeks, leaving behind stinging eyes and the taste of salt. "It's okay," Draco murmured "It's going to be okay."

"How do you know that?" Hermione questioned "How in God's name do you know that?"

"Because I do," he lifted her chin to meet his gaze, gray ice that left her cold and warm at the same time. "You're going to have to trust me," Draco whispered as he stroked her cheeks.

Trust. It seemed so simple to most people and yet Hermione had forgotten how to do so. Somewhere between mapping out battles and dodging spells and surviving torture, Hermione had lost her ability to let anyone be her support, let anyone approach her. There existed an emotional wall that was easily ignored until someone, like Draco, started to pound against it, started to pry bricks from the structure and inch his way closer.

Gray eyes searched her own, soft lips parted slightly and rough fingers wiped dampness from her face. She almost whimpered, frightened of the sensations his touch brought with it.

Hermione watched mesmerized as his head bent and his nose touched hers. She could smell him, a sweet mix of musk and sweat and the lingering scent of shampoo. His skin felt soft, and she shivered at the contact, unable to move as his eyes closed and his lips sought hers. She tingled, unbearably, in a way that made her want to run away and cling to him simultaneously. But through it all her mind had not slowed and it was struggling to rationalize, to understand the implications, to understand why she wasn't repulsed by a former Slytherin, a Malfoy first and foremost.

It was too much, too much emotion, too much uncertainty, too much pulsing desire. Desperately Hermione stepped backwards, tripping over air as she pulled violently away.

"No," she whispered, and then repeated louder "NO" it echoed into the silence. "Just, please, no … you're … just, no. I can't." The hurt in Draco's eyes was evident as he blinked, bewildered. "I'm sorry." And then she was rushing headlong into the night and towards her bed and away from all the confusion of a simple kiss.


	9. Worrying, Grieving, and Condemning

Hands traced hips and stroked upwards towards her bellybutton as Hermione traced her pale outline in the dark dormitory. Hidden behind red and faded curtains, she assessed her frame and felt thinner. She was nearly positive her clothes hung looser when she walked hallways and rushed between classes.

Yet she doubted her own judgment; it was easy to believe in successes when the air was cool and the night full of moonlight and stars. Pushing the blanket aside Hermione let herself shiver at the temperature change, however slight it was, and ran her hands downward. Ribcage gave way to smooth skin of abdomen and then the harder contrast of hipbone, laid bare to Hermione's musing.

Rolling over she slid from her bed, hands, knees, and feet meeting ground in a quiet, graceless fall. Straightening, she made her way stealthily across floor boards and woolen carpets. Light from the night sky filtered in to fall across her face in passing streaks, creating fanciful patterns on her blue, cotton clothes. Upon reaching the oak door, she winced at the creak as it gave way to her tug. But no one stirred, and Hermione was able to escape into the black of the hallway beyond.

She inched her way down the hall and into the shared bathroom, pausing to turn on lights only after the door had clicked shut behind her. It was uncomfortably fluorescent in the room and she wondered briefly why no one had taken the time to spell the light fixtures to cast a softer glow, but quickly became distracted by mirrors along the left wall. The unvarnished truth was what Hermione sought and she had decided that the cold, heartless glass would show it.

Carefully she lifted her shirt over her head and let it drop to the ground. Her pants followed with a quiet thump as she stepped out of them, chilled now as she stood in simple, white, underwear.

And then Hermione looked into the mirrors, turning to analyze pale skin from multiple angles. From one degree she looked acceptable, though her thighs were still thick and muscles did not show themselves under the scrutinizing lights. But turning to the side made her look grotesque; when she bent, a roll of fat appeared.

Embarrassed now, Hermione quickly withdrew to her pile of clothes and hastily put them on. Each brush against skin as pajamas slid back into place reminded her of the imperfections she had seen in the mirror.

Heading towards the exit, she reached for the lights, letting the world sink back into shades of grey. Numb toes accompanied Hermione back to her bed and a quiet snore from across the room was the only acknowledgment of life as she carefully slipped under the blankets and laid her head back down.

The red curtains remained, as old and worn as ever, but Hermione ignored them as she turned inward. She had been hopeful that one of her goals, of health and weight loss, had been achieved, but she had found herself otherwise. She was still round, solid, pale white and pimply.

Hermione wanted to sob, wanted to throw sharp objects, rip her body apart and demand that whatever god created her begin again. She didn't know why corporeal perfection had become so important, but it was. That night, it seemed to turn into the essential component for passing the test of life that she, apparently, was failing.

Haphazardly tossing her pillow aside, Hermione sat up, arms crossed and forehead wrinkled. She needed a distraction from the memory of her mocking reflection and the recollection of Draco's kiss proved effective. Her hand drifted lazily to tug on her lower lip, remembering the feeling of warmth, of her heart racing and his breath escaping.

Yet Hermione had struggled with panic at his proximity to her body and his resemblance to the father she couldn't forget. Draco had the same blonde hair, grey eyes, and a sneer identical to the one Lucius Malfoy wore a year ago in the Battle of London. It had been quiet that hour; the noise around her disappearing as her wand was pressed to the older Malfoy's forehead, his to her collarbone. Harry had yelled something as Lucius smirked and Ron bellowed, but her ears refused to make sense of his words. She breathed in when Malfoy did, and released pent up stress in twitches that echoed the tapping of his left foot.

How she had walked away alive was a mystery, Hermione only recalled green and the feeling of intense nausea. Lucius Malfoy's face had frozen somewhere between sneer and shock, a twisted vision of death, inches from her face, before his body thudded as it hit the ground, and his wand clattered to the tiles from his limp hand. She had stood there; chest burning and sweat beading on her back and between her breasts, until Harry had reached her and pulled her away, stumbling.

That was the first time Hermione killed and the last from such a close range, but each one tore a hole into her conscience and she couldn't forget the ease with which anger flowed from her. It had been so simple to utter the words, so easy to flick her wrist and send the spell crashing, deadly, into the enemy. She still used her wand infrequently and looking at it on her nightstand still caused fingers to itch uncomfortably and swallowing remained difficult.

Falling backwards onto the mattress Hermione raised her hand to study the ghostly outline against the night. She had been granted life and all she wanted was to give it back, she had enough of worrying, grieving, and condemning her own self to inadequacy.


	10. Too Selfish to Pull Away

_To those commenting, thank you! I know this is a bit depressing, but I'm setting up Hermione falling into this trap of misery and releasing it in an eating disorder even as she tries to find happiness. I don't do sad endings so it will end fine, it just takes a while and I'm trying to balance that._

_To sugar hiccup, and all those wondering why I would describe the smell of rain to ammonia, I have a weird sense of smell and I always find that in the middle of a particular hard rain it smells faintly of urine. I know, I know, no one else smells that but I do and since this version of Hermione is mine, I decided I would make her strange in the same way._

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The sun had finally decided to warm the grass upon which she sat, and Hermione stretched, letting the soft breeze run its way across her face and through her hair.

Lazily, her gaze swept over the figure beside her. They hadn't spoken yet and for that Hermione was grateful, she didn't want to ask questions and she didn't really want to contemplate consequences. This was nice, after her sleepless night she was willing to focus solely on the feel of grass, bright blue sky, and the uneven breaths of an otherwise silent Draco.

He had found her earlier outside the Great Hall; she had been escaping once again in hopes of avoiding the unhealthy food Hogwarts was serving. Draco had caught her by the wrist and his touch ran through her, gently he had pulled until her knees touched his. Brushing his hand across her cheek, Hermione had closed her eyes briefly as he began to lead her towards the main door, careful to stay away from the main corridors used by students. Empty halls full of light and dust and dark corners passed as she tried to still the panic and ignore her pounding heart. This was Draco after all, reformed and caring, this was neither the father she had murdered nor the child who used to damage her verbally. She could remember that during the day.

So now she found herself on the lawn, an ant scrambling over her thumb, and a swallow's shadow passing over her face, heading towards the forbidden forest. Smiling she turned her face upwards.

"This is nice isn't it?" Draco finally interrupted the silence, causing her to jump slightly and open her eyes. Yes, she nodded, unwilling to break the numbing calm inside her head that a beautiful day brought. "Can I say something?" He asked after a brief pause, his hands fidgeting. When Hermione didn't respond, he rushed on "I'm sorry about last night. I didn't realize … I'm really sorry I upset you, it was out of line."

Draco looked worried, his forehead wrinkled and back hunched as if a weight pressed in from above. Hermione almost laughed at how comically lost he looked, the dread Draco Malfoy worried that he would offend the mudblood! In the light of day, with a bee drifting by and the wind whispering secrets, Hermione was not quite as unprepared, not as shocked to feel desire. Reaching out tentatively, smiling, she grasped his hand.

Hard, worn and yet so soft, she never wanted to let go, wanted to always sit there, tracing her thumb along his and reveling in the contact of flesh. "I was just scared," she began, and then corrected, "I am scared. I want you. I do. But …" she glanced up as he tightened his grip.

"Hey," he met her eyes "so am I." he looked out past the tree line, "what if I damage you somehow? What if I'm not good enough? What will the world think?"

"What if I can't be …" Hermione bit her lip, "well you know … intimate?" she admitted, blushing "because all I can get myself to do is hold your hand or hug you. Kissing is a huge step, I mean come one, last time I ran away." Draco chuckled.

"One step at a time, Hermione, one step at a time," Draco pulled her towards him.

"Yeah, but …" Hermione protested even as she was tugged closer and her heart beat in an irregular rhythm.

"No. I'm nervous too, but you over think this far too much." She could almost hear him smirk but she was also able to catch the concern in his voice. Smiling she settled her head on his shoulder and studied the clover at their feet.

"Ok," was all she said and then she concentrated on her breath and the particular song of one of the last remaining birds of summer. She watched clouds form and disperse, and the sun play a game with them, hiding only to emerge just as they began to shiver slightly. She could do this, she could grasp her own joy, _just as Susan told you, _she reminded herself_ one day at a time, one moment at a time, and don't over examine!_ She almost laughed, Hermione Granger was, if nothing else, a girl that lived in her brain, that loved an intellectual challenge and spent far too much time analyzing, not over thinking was something she had never learned to

Draco's hand reached out and started to stroke her hair, twisting an end lightly around a finger. "Hermione are you sure?"

"Sure of what?"

"Of us."

Incredulously she raised her head, "didn't we just cover this?" But his look silenced her; she kept forgetting that underneath his façade was a scared little boy, frightened of being rejected like his peers had done many times before. Carefully, gingerly, she framed his face with her hands, felt his cool cheekbones and the light hair that fluttered free. "No, I'm not sure, I'm not certain of anything lately. But I feel like I want this, it scares me shitless, but I want this," nervous once again she asked timidly, "don't you?"

"Yes," Draco exhaled, and then broke out into the most dazzling of smiles "Yes." Suddenly feeling overwhelmed and a little frightened that he might try to kiss her again, Hermione hid her face against his chest. Feather light his lips brushed her crown and she smiled as her brain screamed, she desired so much and yet wanted none of it. As his arms encircled her though, she felt close to content and it was something so very rare that she couldn't give it up, no matter that a part of her rebelled.

"Thank you" she murmured, barely audible, as she wrapped her own arms firmly around his waist.

Harry was not going to like this development and she was worried about what her classmates would think. She couldn't help but worry that her happiness in the arms of the former slytherin ferret was somehow a betrayal of Ron's memory, that Ginny would never speak to her again, but she was just too selfish to pull away.


	11. Harmless Looking Object

Hermione pulled the blanket closer and turned more fully toward the fire. The heat warmed her face, hovering over cheekbones and leaving her back colder in contrast. The corners of the Common Room remained in shadow but her trembling fingers were illuminated as she smoothed out the edges of a pillow.

A letter sat untouched on the table across from her with quill and ink beside it. It was going to be a message to Harry, expressing her romantic dilemma and asking for his blessing, but she knew the anger with which he would read it and so Hermione couldn't begin. Once the words were written she would be unable to take them back, somehow upon writing them the entire situation would seem more real and immediate. Until that moment her flirtation with Draco had stayed between the two and her growing inner tumult remained secret even from the boy himself.

Crossing her legs a few more times, Hermione sighed heavily and leaned forward. Her fingers grasped the quill, trembling only slightly, as she dipped it into the ink. A feeling of foolishness was taking hold, making her angry and determined. _I did not survive Voldemort, death eaters, and loss just to chicken out on one tiny letter,_ she scolded as she forcefully placed quill to paper. Forming Harry's name and the opening salutations, she began.

**I know I haven't written in a while and I'm sorry, but things have been so busy! Hogwarts changed, and trying to live in such a small, damaged community is harder than I thought. But we can do it.**

Hermione stopped then, uncertain if the mention of Hogwarts was appropriate, but with a shrug she figured it would do no harm to mention realities. _Besides, if he can't handle that, he certainly can't take Draco_ she grinned mirthlessly.

**I'm hoping things on your end are better. Maybe I can visit over spring break??**

Hermione just wished that when Harry saw her again he would see someone worth being his friend, not the emotionally fragile, physically bloated being she had become.

**I have something to confess, and I don't want you to freak out. At least not until you've read the entire letter and then talked to me. Keep that in mind please …**

**I'm falling in love with Draco Malfoy, and he feels the same way.**

Hermione couldn't help but giggle when she realized it was true, she was in love with Draco and he loved her back. It wasn't all a dream; the reality was that someone loved her, someone as wonderful as Draco. It really shouldn't matter what anyone thought. Sighing, Hermione reminded herself that it was one thing to determinedly ignore the world's censure, another to ignore a friend's disapproval, and that Harry would disapprove seemed almost certain. _So I need to convince him,_ Hermione straightened her shoulders and sat straighter.

**He really has changed Harry. He believes in our cause and he still can't forgive himself for his murders, both for when he was on Voldemort's side and after he switched over. He's lost his parents and no one here will talk to him, former Slytherins and others alike, yet he only resents himself for that. He's almost too self-chastising if you ask me and you know how deeply I believe in lengthy repentance for their sins.**

Rubbing her face, Hermione leaned back once more. That last part was only true until she had written it on parchment, and then the floodgates of doubt opened once more. It was as if all her positive sentiments towards Draco's redemption had poured out of her and was now replaced with uncertainty. Could Draco really atone for all he had done? For the torture he had inflicted, for the actions he had allowed his father to commit? Her jaw clenched just remembering the cold, dead eyes of Malfoy senior, or the brutality of his aunt. Draco never did formerly apologize, nor had she asked for that. They never discussed what he owed society, what he owed her, and it made her uneasy. She loved him, she did, but it scared her for its irrationality.

Hermione stared longingly at the hissing flames of the fireplace and her hands itched to crumple up the paper and toss it into the heat. It would disintegrate quickly, become dust and Harry would remain blissfully ignorant. With their strange, unnamed relationship still so tenuous, Hermione could just walk away, if what she had written remained unrevealed, she could simply turn her back. She could go back to hating him, resenting what he represented, keep the last shreds of her heart safe behind a barricade, she was too vulnerable in this.

But in the end Hermione Granger was a realist, and she knew that the fluttering of her heart and the twisting of her stomach meant it would never be as easy as that. She could toss the letter; she could walk out of this room, but the second she was in Draco's presence she would go back to his arms and his warm mouth. It was completely irrational, so unlike her, yet she admitted that it seemed uncontrollable. _And do you really want to control it?_ A whispered voice debated. When Hermione really thought about Draco's tender glances and fragile soul, she knew he was what she wanted. Such a teenage desire and it thrilled her that this spark of normalcy had returned to a young woman grown old too early. Turning back to her letter, and pushing back her doubts once more, she finished with new found confidence.

**He's not perfect, I won't pretend that, but who really is. Besides, he's good for me. I'm so lost here and alone without my best friends, it hurts, as I'm sure it hurts you, and Draco soothes that, so I can't deny these feelings any longer.**

**As of now we've kept this secret, we're so uncertain of it all ourselves, and I wanted to tell you first so you didn't find out some other way. It actually kind of crept up on me, first we were friends and then … yeah. I really want you to understand that he's not the Draco you knew, that this is what I want and need. Please don't be angry with me, please stand by me when this goes public. God the press is going to go crazy, and I'm sure nobody's going to be thrilled.**

End on a different note, she reminded herself. _Harry always did react better when his attention was diverted_, Hermione chuckled.

**Speaking of the press, are they as ruthless over where you are?**

**Lots of love,**

**Hermione**

Satisfied Hermione put the quill back in the ink well and folded the letter. She refused to check it for spelling errors as she usually did, if she opened it up again she'd never send it. The parchment weighed far more than was realistic; so much of the future depended on the reception of this paper and the words hidden within its folds. It seemed ironic that after all the battles, Hermione almost feared the harmless looking object in her hands more.


	12. Coffee Date

Hermione blushed once again as she tried to prevent herself from openly staring. The heat in her cheeks warmed her face, a welcome change from the blustering wind outside. Draco had led her gently by the hand to a corner table and then wound his way through the chairs and a few customers to get her drink. He looked so rugged with his unkempt hair and low slung trousers and it made Hermione tingle in places she had read existed but never really experienced before. Twisting her palms together she glanced away so that he would not catch her staring, it still felt unreal that they were on a date. No matter who Draco was, or who he had been, he was physically handsome and she felt inadequate beside him, shocked that he might want her like she wanted him.

It was their first official date, though they had been spending an increasing amount of time together in secret meetings, and it had taken Draco a week to convince Hermione to go. At first she had been too shocked by the idea, too torn between excitement and dread to respond. It meant that what was happening between them was not a figment of her imagination; it meant that she would have to own up to exactly those things she had written about to Harry. She didn't want to gather the strength to do so, but after two days he had convinced her. Yet she had panicked once more just yesterday when she realized that such a date would mean food and she suspected no restaurant would have anything she deemed "healthy". Society it seemed no longer knew what eating well meant. Hermione nearly refused to go when she began to think about dessert and whether Draco would want to eat some. In the end she had convinced him to opt for coffee, not a meal.

Tucking a stray tendril behind her ear, a habit she could not break no matter how useless it was, the frizzy wisps managed to escape only seconds after, she glanced towards the window on her left. The sunlight danced across her shoulders and Hogmeade's main street was slightly blurred by the fine layer of dirt on the panes of glass. Wind sent fallen leaves skittering around various pedestrians and under a few carriages being pulled by invisible forces. Cars had been deemed "too muggle" during the terror of Voldemort in England and were only slowly returning in some of the larger cities. Witches and wizards bustled past with a few packages, and children played in muggle clothing, now popular with the younger generation who liked the casual attire on weekends. The town had been overtaken by Voldemort's forces towards the end of the war and had been continuously under attack until little remained. It was rebuilt soon after the Victory, its symbolism for all Hogwarts students being great, but due to the haste of the reconstruction it was now a relatively austere place of concrete and the bright splashes of jewelry or jackets seemed out of place among the gray and brown of the town. Pockets of lingering dark magic remained.

"One coffee," Draco's arm stretched across her vision and placed a steaming mug in front of her "you sure you don't want milk or sugar?" He brushed her shirt as he moved around to sit across from her, and Hermione was glad that her erratic breathing was too shallow to be heard.

She smiled at him and lied, "I'm sure, I like it black," she laughed as Draco shook his head in mock scorn, "I know I'm strange." Yet even as she said it Hermione couldn't help but long for sugar. _A pound of it_ she grimaced as the bitter liquid scalded her tongue. But sugar was something she was not allowed on the diet, it was what made everyone fat, and Hermione no longer wanted to be fat, not when Draco Malfoy sat there quirking that eyebrow and sipping warm ale.

The hot liquid, while being bitter and slightly too strong, settled comfortably in Hermione's empty stomach and she felt a little more content even as the caffeine made her jittery. She sat on her hands when she no longer wanted to see them shake; it was strange how easily caffeine affected her recently, just a sip made her buzz. The feeling was probably magnified though by the blond boy sitting with her.

"So," she began, trying to fill the silence between them. "How's quidditch?" It sounded pathetic in her ears but other topics had evaporated along with the steam of their drinks as her mind blanked.

"Good," Draco remained non committal, "it's definitely different, what with no school houses but we're managing to get more competitive."

"Wait," she hadn't thought about the problem of creating new divisions now that Hogwarts no longer had school houses, "how are you all made into teams then?" _How on earth can it be interesting without the old historic rivalries? _she wondered.

"By what division of study you're in, whether you want to work in the government later or in the hospitals and so on," he leaned forward and Hermione's eyes couldn't resist drifting towards his lips. "It gets a little tricky with those who have no idea," he laughed "I swear Weasley keeps changing her mind and switching teams every few weeks. Obviously, some kinks have to be worked out."

It took Hermione a few seconds to realize he had been referring to Ginny. "Ginny's playing?" Hermione asked astonished, wrapping her fingers around her mug once more and leaning further towards the table.

"Yeah, you didn't know?" Draco looked a little taken aback and Hermione instantly felt guilty that Draco seemed to be more aware of what her friend was doing than she was. Collapsing back against her seat she tried to remember if Ginny had mentioned to her that she was once again joining the team. The fact that both Harry and Ron had played before the War made it a sore topic and the youngest Weasley had refused to even touch a broom for quite a while after peace was restored.

"No, I guess I didn't," Hermione said, her tone muffled, when had she become so distant that she hadn't noticed her best friend taking such a giant step towards normalcy? Looking up at Draco she tried to smirk and shook her head in an effort to come back to the present. "I seem to have been a little remiss."

Once she had found her way back to normal conversation and timid flirtation, the afternoon passed in a haze of conversation and a growing obsession with Draco's characteristic smirk. After Hermione had finished her third coffee and was beginning to long for a bathroom, Draco stood and pulled at her hand to walk with her out of the building and into the streets leading to Hogwarts.

"We could apparate, if you wanted to," Hermione realized, and she started to pull back a little from his warm frame.

"But I like it better here with you," Draco responded as he narrowed the gap between them and placed his arm around her waist. "Is that ok?" he asked, suddenly hesitant. Smiling she simply nodded. While her mirror told her that she was too ugly to be desired, and her mind told her she was too broken to be worth anything to anyone, Hermione couldn't help taking what Draco was offering.


	13. An Answer

**So I'm back. I was gone for reasons that will remain undisclosed here. I'm writing furiously and have a few lined up. Hopefully you all approve. Please Please Please review, they make getting the energy to write so much easier. Whether it's too tell me I'm doing wonderfully, to express pleasure at a part you really enjoyed, or to tell me (in a polite, mature manner) that my writing style or story line needs a swift kick up the butt. Enjoy.**

* * *

Hermione's pants had become too loose again and she had needed to add an extra hole to her belt so they would continue to hold up her pants. She knew she should be excited about the obvious weight loss, and she was, but it didn't make her happy. When Hermione looked in the mirror she saw the truth, that she was still blindingly pale and unfit. Her stomach also remained dismally large in proportion to the rest of her shrinking frame. She hoped by cutting more calories from her daily diet she could finally achieve the body she wanted. So Hermione had resorted to hiding in the library, doing work, while her friends went to breakfast and lunch; dinner became the only meal she would consume.

On Wednesday morning Hermione found herself a seat at an empty table in the back corner of the first floor of the library. Snape had assigned a long potions essay and Hermione wanted to triple check what she had written before handing it in. However she was finding concentrating difficult, and instead of making corrections she ended up drifting in and out of sleep as she watched the changing light from the windows. Her fingers traced the outline of where light met shadow as she attempted to force herself to read some of what she had written for potions, but she never lasted long before her eyes closed once more.

It was during one of the brief bouts of productivity when Hermione suddenly heard a severe tapping against the window. At first she thought it was just a branch being buffeted by a winter wind but when it didn't stop Hermione finally turned around, frustrated at being interrupted. Her angry gaze was met by the doleful large eyes of a tawny owl as it stared at her through the glass, a piece of parchment strapped to its leg.

Cold air rushed in along with the chilled bird which fluttered its wings and hopped from one foot to the next as it adjusted to the cozy temperatures inside the library. Carefully Hermione reached for its leg and untied the parchment; the address written on the outside was in Harry's handwriting.

Once the owl was gone and the window firmly latched once more, Hermione retreated to her hard bench and the table full of school work where she stared at the letter in her hand. She was almost afraid to open and unroll it. Now that Harry had responded, she wasn't certain she wanted to know what he had to say.

If Harry were to be happy for her and Draco, then Hermione only had to face her own demons, but if he were upset then she would have to go up against the censure of the wizarding community in England, not to mention the problems it would create between herself and her most important friend. Hermione wasn't certain which outcome she preferred. While Harry's approval would make her budding relationship much easier, his anger would give her an easy excuse to leave Draco, and Hermione wasn't entirely certain she wasn't actually looking for such a justification. She certainly had feelings for Draco, and she basked in his affections, but she also often doubted her choice and knew things would be simpler without a boyfriend and the emotions that came with one. Without a boyfriend, without Draco, there would be one less person capable of truly hurting her.

Slowly, Hermione unrolled the parchment and stared without reading. The handwriting was, as usual, a hurried scrawl with words that Harry had found particularly important underlined. She skimmed the page with her fingertips, following the lines without comprehension. This was all the only physical connection she had with her best friend and she didn't want his possibly angry words to ruin the moment if the words were angry.

After a few minutes spent staring, Hermione carefully set the parchment aside and packed up her school books, quill, and ink before pulling the letter back towards her once more. Straightening her back, and her resolve, she finally began to read.

_Dear Hermione,_

_To say I was __shocked __about your news would be an understatement. How can you Hermione, are you totally __mad__?I realize this isn't the reaction you're looking for, but when it comes to the Malfoys there really isn't any other response. They are an __evil __lot and Malfoy is no different than all the rest._

Harry wasn't happy, and it didn't surprise Hermione, though now that she read it she did wish he could be more moderate in his reactions. He had always been hot headed.

_However__, before you freak out on me, I will give you the benefit of the doubt._

Now that surprised her. Perhaps Harry had grown up a little as well.

_I don't understand this at all and it makes me sad to think you've been somehow duped but I will come by and see for myself._

Hermione frowned. That wasn't what she had been aiming for.

_And yes, Hermione, before you complain, this is __necessary__. I love you, but it's Malfoy and my first priority is to protect you._

_You can expect me within a week. No, I can't tell you where I've been, at least not in a letter. But we'll talk when I get there, at which point you can prove me wrong about Malfoy. As a warning though, I highly doubt you can make me think differently._

_Are you certain Hermione? If this is just a fling, it would be better if you just __let it go__. Hermione, for heaven's sake! Malfoy!_

_Harry_

Was she certain? Or was Harry right to be concerned? Hermione had to admit she definitely wasn't, but the way Harry described Draco made her uncomfortable and defensive enough to lie. If Harry asked, she would pretend to have no doubts. Even if this were just a fling, she would try to prove Draco's worth to Harry. If the awkward upcoming "Inquisition" could establish Draco as a better person than previously believed, perhaps some good could still come of it. However, she would most certainly need to talk to Harry when he arrived. As nice as the sentiment might be, this older brother act was going a little too far; the ridiculousness of having Harry visit in order to approve of Hermione's man didn't escape her notice. Harry needed to be brought down a little from this pedestal of his. Hermione smirked, if nothing else, she had always been good at that.


	14. Telling Ginny Weasley

The vegetables were exceptionally problematic that day, everything came with a sauce and sauces were full of calories that Hermione couldn't control. The creamy vegetables were very tempting, the bread even more so, but carbohydrates were off limits and she really couldn't eat food dipped in sauce. Sighing, she poured herself another glass of sparkling water and waited for Ginny to arrive.

Hermione had caught Ginny in the hallway between classes earlier and asked her to meet her for dinner. She had picked a table in the corner and had sat herself somewhere in the middle of the bench far away from any of their friends; the conversation she had planned was private.

A few rows over Hermione could see Neville chatting happily with Padme and a first year whose name she couldn't recall. The girl was pretty in a nondescript way and Neville seemed to be flirting quite heavily although, as usual, he wasn't getting much of a response. Hermione had to chuckle, Neville wasn't ugly and he was generally very sweet but he had never learned how to be smooth and charming. His one and only girlfriend had transferred to Romania early in the war to be with her relatives; otherwise Neville had never been very successful with the opposite sex.

"Hey," Ginny interrupted Hermione's musing as she slid in on the other side of the table "sorry I'm late, the study session lasted longer than planned." Smiling she reached for the pasta and the pesto sauce, Hermione watched entranced as she piled on the oily topping and poured a creamy dressing on the salad she had put into a smaller bowl. "So," Ginny used her fork to twirl the spaghetti into a pile "you wanted to talk?"

"Yeah," Hermione cleared her throat; she wasn't certain where she wanted to begin. "I talked to Harry about something … personal, recently."

"You talked to him? I thought he still didn't trust the fireplace network!" Ginny sounded both surprised and jealous.

"No, no. By letter. I wrote to him," Hermione rushed to reassure her.

"Ok," Ginny relaxed. When the silence began to get awkward and Ginny began to look completely confused Hermione started talking again.

"I wrote to him because I need to tell him something, something he isn't happy about. I'm not surprised but it turns out he's upset enough that he's now going to visit." Ginny just nodded unsurprised and when Hermione cocked her head in question Ginny explained.

"He wrote me that he was visiting, and that would explain why … but what could you tell him that would bring him back?"

"Well he's not really coming back," Hermione warned, "he's only visiting, I'm sure he'll go back to wherever he is." Ginny waved her off.

"I know, I know. But still, what was he so upset about?" she asked as Hermione sighed.

"He's upset about the guy I'm … well, the guy I … the guy I'm dating," a better term for it Hermione couldn't think of.

"You're dating someone?" Ginny squealed leaning forward with a huge grin "why didn't you say anything? Who is it? Why haven't I met him yet?" she paused "but why would Harry be upset? I mean, yeah he's overprotective but not like that." Hermione blushed and gnawed at her bottom lip for a second.

"I'm dating Draco, Ginny." Hermione couldn't help but grin. It felt good to say it out loud.

"What?" Ginny slumped backwards, shock written all over her face, "wait, what?" She sputtered again. "Malfoy?" Hermione could only nod. "Malfoy the ferret? The death eater? Our mortal enemy since we were 11?" Hermione couldn't help but feel a little upset.

"He's not like that anymore! Draco can be really sweet and he's definitely reformed." Ginny snorted. "He is!" Hermione insisted "and he's good for me Ginny, you don't need to like him but you can't insult him like that anymore!" She was almost yelling now and Ginny sat in shock.

"Ok, ok," Ginny looked uncomfortably at the curious faces of those near them, "come on, you can't expect me to accept everything without a bit of shock. I'll try but you need to explain some things, you've got to know this is coming out of left field." Running a hand through her mane of hair, Hermione tried to slow her rapid breathing as she realized the scene she was creating. Luckily most of the room was still oblivious but those around her were already shooting her strange looks and trying to eavesdrop.

"Do you want to take a walk? Maybe talk somewhere more private," Hermione suggested. "I promise not to get upset so long as you listen and try not to make too many assumptions."

"Sure, but don't you want to eat something first?" The ever practical Ginny asked, as she pushed the last forkful of salad into her mouth.

"It's ok, I already ate quite a bit today," Hermione brushed her off "besides I'm on a diet, so I'm trying to avoid the sauces and so forth." Ginny nodded in understanding and stood up, placing her book bag on her shoulder.

They didn't speak as they wound their way through benches and milling students. The war had taught both of them that private topics needed to be kept protected and rooms full of people were only ideal until those around them became suspicious.

Once they reached the outer courtyard Ginny took a deep breath. "Ok, now we talk." Hermione moved to sit on a low stone wall and Ginny followed.

"I figured if Harry knew, you deserved to know." Hermione began "This isn't a typical thing, I'm aware that Draco isn't anyone's favorite but I'm kind of falling for him." Nervously she tucked a stray hair back behind her ear.

"And he feels the same?" Ginny asked, her voice betraying her nerves even as she remained rigidly seated beside her friend.

"Yeah," Hermione's smiled shyly. "He's really different Ginny. I mean he's still kind of arrogant, but I know plenty of guys with an ego, and he's got his prejudices against Harry. He's an arrogant git but he secretly means well and he's really sweet, though he tries to act tough." Hermione could just barely suppress a happy sigh. It felt nice to finally talk to someone, she almost felt like a teenage girl giggling over boys at some cheesy sleepover.

"You really like him. I mean, this isn't some stunt," Ginny sounded amazed and unnerved as she turned to study Hermione's face.

"Yes," Hermione shifted a little as well, "are you really angry?"

"No. I'm not angry," Ginny answered "but I am worried. I know you don't want to hear this, but the Malfoys have a reputation for a reason or have you forgotten that?"

"But not Draco and at some point people need to give him a chance! Everyone keeps preaching forgiveness and calling us the "good" side and yet you can't accept him even when I tell you he's changed and he's good for me!" Hermione's voice rose but she remained seated.

"You say this and I wish I could believe you but you have to understand it's not that easy," Ginny groaned in frustration "I haven't experienced it myself. Besides Hermione, you weren't the only one who had to battle the Malfoys. Have you forgotten how Lucius Malfoy nearly raped me?"

"What is it going to take Ginny?" Hermione pleaded.

"I don't know!" Ginny stood and began to pace, "I mean, Jesus, I wasn't expecting this and you just spring it on me! I'm sorry if I'm not reacting how you want me to, but come on."

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, "this is all so new but I wanted my friends to know and I wanted to tell you myself before Harry got here. You needed hear it from me. Plus, I was hoping you could be happy for me."

"And I'm glad you told me yourself but it doesn't make it easier to take in," stopping in mid stride Ginny looked upwards at the moon and the first of the night's stars. "Ok," she huffed, "this really means a lot to you right?"

"Yes," Hermione barely trusted herself to breathe; she really didn't want to lose Ginny over this.

"Ok," Ginny shook her head a few times, "this is totally crazy." She turned around to look at Hermione, "I'm not saying I can't accept this but I am asking for time alright?" Hermione simply nodded.

"I don't want to start being all chummy with the bastard and I'm going to need a bit of space to process but … when Harry arrives we'll all sit down and maybe by then I'll be alright with this."

Hermione nodded before pleading, "We're still friends right?"

"Of course," Ginny looked at her shocked, "of course Hermione, but I'm going to need some space and I'm sorry but there's no way I'm going to spend time with the two of you together, not right away." Hermione nodded. The silence that followed felt heavy. Suddenly Ginny began to giggle.

"What's so funny?" Hermione asked, confused at the sudden shift in emotion.

"You get," Ginny could barely speak through the gales of laughter "your first real boyfriend," she slowly settled into a rough chuckle "and he has to be a former death eater! You started off as such a law abiding priss and now look at you, dating the biggest rule breaking bastard!"


End file.
